


Something About This

by ImperfectAlias



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ardyn gets a second chance at being alive, Gen, Human!Ardyn, In which memories come slowly, No demons no crystal no problem, Platonic Relationships, Slow Burn, acceptance comes slower, and Ardyn and Regis have been reborn as siblings, and maybe an identity crisis, in an almost literal sense, maybe a few problems, tags to be added as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12309762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectAlias/pseuds/ImperfectAlias
Summary: ...is kind of disorienting.When Ardyn Lucis Caelum wakes up on the morning following a minor car accident, something changes."His thoughts swirl and spiral - as if nothing about this is right but, logically and reasonably, it cannot be anything else."The last thing Ardyn Izunia deserves is a second chance.He gets one anyway.Reincarnation!Modern World AU





	1. Something Changes

Ardyn Lucis Caelum graces the world with the deepest breath he can muster - as if he hasn’t been able to take one for an unfathomable amount of time.

The last thing that is to be expected is nearly being blinded as he awoke in an unreasonably comfortable bed - amber eyes immediately shutting against the onslaught of the morning sun, that comes glaring in through thin curtains, as he moves to shield his eyelids with his arm.

Waking up with a headache is a most unpleasant way to greet the day.

Something about the thought makes the man’s fingers twitch. No - no that isn’t right. His head is not what is supposed to be hurting - his stomach, maybe? The pain should be dampened - nonexistent. Something about this is wrong - unsettling, even.

Something is _missing_ and, even with the soft sounds of morning traffic outside, the room is too _quiet_.

The thoughts swirl for a moment and all Ardyn can imagine is a blade piercing through his abdomen - but that conflicts with the slowly clearing memory of tires screeching loudly against dark pavement; it’s a memory that involves a loud vehicle with flashing lights and a stretcher laying beneath his back.

He moves the fingers of his left hand over his stomach; even through the blanket overtop of him, Ardyn determines that there is no blade-shaped wound in his midsection. The discovery leaves him in a disorientating state of disappointment. Why is he disappointed at the lack of a fatal wound?

“Surely this is something to celebrate,” he muses aloud as he finally removes his arm from over his eyes to run his hand across his face. Clean shaven and, again, something that feels terribly foreign and wrong.

A voice from somewhere off to Ardyn’s left shakes him from the uneasy feelings. “I would hope so, considering your head quite nearly bounced off the pavement when that car hit you,” another man sighs from his place in the doorway.

Ardyn can almost hear the lopsided frown in the other’s voice. He also feels _something_ that immediately makes him want to… he’s not entirely sure - but the feeling itself makes his stomach roll uncomfortably.

The man instead attempts to maneuver himself into a sitting position, pointedly ignoring his headache, as he replies, “come now, Regis - if anything is going to be the death of me, I doubt it will be something as trivial as a car accident.” Ardyn takes a second to glance around the room before the corners of his lips slide upward and his amber stare lands on the other, a hand waving in the air. “Personally, I would prefer it be our uncle putting a knife between my fourth and fifth ribs - dramatic and tragic in equal portions.”

Ardyn only pauses to stare at his hand, which has bandages wrapped across the palm that trail down past the sleeves of his night shirt - but is it really his? That _something_ feeling makes him wonder if it is nearly frilly enough. When had there been bandages on his hand? Why did he need them? It _stings_ \- of course it stings - he had been hit by a car and likely fell and scraped himself. It makes sense - so why is the idea of there being pain causing him confusion?

Ardyn glances back towards Regis and realizes the other has been considering him curiously. His mouth has slipped sideways and he looks puzzled - Ardyn can can only assume it has something to do with his current state of being. Perhaps some kind of pain medication is wearing off - maybe that’s why he is out of sorts.

Again, his mind is conjuring up ridiculous questions, such as why he needs pain medication at all.

“Are you feeling alright?” Regis asks after a moment. He is reasonably tall and well kept, with dark hair brushed back and dressed as if he has just walked out of a business meeting. He walks to the bedside without an issue and pulls up a chair, but Ardyn finds himself under the assumption that the other should walk with a limp. The thought is quickly joined by another - Regis should be wearing gold and something is missing around his shoulders, in his hair, on his right knee.

A scoff leaves Ardyn before he can think about it. “I was hit by a car, Regis, and am undoubtedly the proud owner of a concussion,” he says with a tooth-filled grin. The words are light, playful, but clipped at the edges. “But other than that - I’m doing swimmingly, thank you.”

Regis sends him a pointed look and Ardyn feels his smile twist up at one side. Yes good - he _wants_ to get a rise out of the other - and it’s almost unnaturally satisfying… before he’s frowning at the taste of bile that suddenly washes over his tongue; it causes Ardyn to run his fingers over his bottom lip and give a hum.

“Do you need any water?” Regis is asking when Ardyn starts paying attention to him once more. The dark haired man’s face falls to a near deadpan as he adds, “or perhaps a bin? If you’re to be sick - I would prefer it wasn’t all over yourself.”

“Water should do,” Ardyn replies after a moment as his hand falls back to his lap. Anything to get rid of the taste of bile in his mouth... no, that's not right - that taste isn’t bile. What _is_ it? Nausea? Irritation? Resentment? Does resentment _have_ a flavor?

Maybe he does have a concussion - minor or otherwise - because nothing about this _feels_ right.

“...I believe it is time to call the doctor,” Regis speaks slowly, and Ardyn realizes that his heart has been left on his sleeve. Why does the idea of such a thing make him want to scowl?

This time, Ardyn knows exactly what he’s feeling. “I _am_ a healer,” he scoffs out in a bubbling irritation, only to pause again. A… healer? “...a doctor. I am a _doctor_ ,” he corrects himself, voice dropping in volume - as if trying to convince himself. The word is both familiar and foreign on his tongue.

“...And I’m sure that doctorate is put to great use when you’re not half-concussed.” Regis’ expression falls into a look as convinced as Ardyn feels; the familiar feeling he gets from the exchange almost makes him feel better. “Regardless, she said to call her when you’re awake. Is there anything I should be aware of? Sharp pains? Blurred vision? Phantoms in the dark?”

“Merely a headache,” Ardyn replies with a lopsided frown, putting up a hand to stop Regis as the other man’s mouth opens. “Nothing severe, I assure you. I’m not going to simply keel over, if that’s what you’re worried about." His lips pull up at the edges. "I dread to think who would be there to teach my dear nephew how to do everything you tell him not to if I were to kick the proverbial bucket.”

Something about the statement makes Ardyn want to physically recoil - as if the very words that left his mouth had tried to burn him. Fighting back the urge to do so, he merely runs his hand through his bangs to move them from his face - red-brown hair. For some reason he had been expecting something more… mauve - which is ridiculous considering he has never even considered dyeing his hair such an outrageous color.

If Regis notices Ardyn’s dilemma, he makes no comment on it. He instead gets back up to his feet and smooths out his dress pants with his hands. The ring on his left hand isn’t right - a simple silver band - it should be black. “I must ask that you not teach Noctis how to be a delinquent in primary school, thank you,” he sighs out with only a sliver of amusement, as if this is a common conversation. When his eyes return to his brother’s face, he pauses again. “Ardyn?”

He must have gone pale - Ardyn certainly _feels_ very pale. His back had straightened almost painfully at the name of his nephew, expression twisting into something even he didn’t know. It feels like something between horrified and insulted. “I… I do believe a doctor is a wonderful suggestion,” he manages to choke out, the words sharper than intended.

“...Yes, I’ll give her a call.” Regis stares at him then, eyebrows furrowed. He stays like that for a moment or so, before he begins to move towards the door. “I do believe you’re correct.” Regis then pauses at the entrance-way with a hand on the doorknob, expression thoughtful. His voice has an almost cryptic note that makes Ardyn raise an eyebrow. “Someone - one of the housekeepers - will bring you water and something to eat,” the dark-haired man says quietly. “I doubt you’ve had something proper to eat for some time.”

The _something_ Ardyn feels almost reminds him of nostalgia - only that bitter taste is filling his mouth again and feels equal parts disconcerting and comforting. He isn’t entirely sure why but, as Regis leaves the room, he laughs - the sound haunting and cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this isn't the most self-indulgent thing I will ever write for this fandom, I will be disappointed.  
> ...I have no idea what I'm doing.


	2. Something is Different

The next hour passes as if Ardyn is in a daze, as if he should be sleeping but cannot seem to will his eyes to close.

A housekeeper - no, an attendant? - a man some twenty years older than Ardyn - brings him a bowl on a tray and a glass of water. He makes small conversation, asking how Ardyn is doing and if he needs anything else - polite. Familiar. Foreign. For the life of him, even after the other man leaves the room, Ardyn cannot seem to remember his name - wait, no - Jared. His name is Jared. He has been working for their family for years. He would be a fool to forget him.

 _Something_ makes his ears ring and a low sound of frustration to leave his lips as his amber eyes stare down the harmless glass of water. Does he _really_ need to eat or drink anything? Of course he does - what a silly question. That same _something_ makes his stomach roll uncomfortably at the idea nonetheless.

Though he drinks the water, Ardyn can only manage a few spoonfuls of whatever is in the bowl before he is swiftly moving the tray to the bedside table. He feels as if he has not had anything to eat in weeks - yet the idea of putting food into his mouth - his stomach - makes him feel more ill than it should.

Ardyn is hardly aware he has been falling in and out of a deep train of thought until the sound of the opening door snaps the red-haired man to attention. It takes him a moment or so of blatant staring to recognize the woman that walks in as the family doctor.

“I’ve been told you have a headache,” the mousy-haired doctor says with a smile, sitting down in the chair Regis left at Ardyn’s bedside. Her eyes are looking over a clipboard before she looks back up at the man’s face. “Is there anything else you’re feeling? You were lucky, considering you got away from that accident with only a few scratches and a bump on the head - it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s anything else that came up in the past few hours. Hold your hands out, please.”

"Yes, hello, how are you - lovely day, isn't it?" Ardyn is saying before he can stop himself, feeling his mouth pull downward into an exasperated frown.

“Yes, hello, Ardyn," she smiles at him apologetically. "Sorry - I just assumed something must have been wrong, given how early Regis called me."

"No apologies necessary, a doctor's job is a thankless one." A sigh escapes Ardyn as he holds out his hands. “...I’ve felt a bit… disoriented, but I’m guessing that would be the concussion,” he admits after a second, eyes half lidded as he watches the doctor gently pull away the bandages from his palms - careful as to not irritate the wounds beneath. The wounds are light, though rather red, and stand out against the pale skin of his hands - they sting and itch, but it would seem they are healing nicely.

The process feels too slow for Ardyn - even if his hands are healing at a perfectly reasonable rate. _Something_ about it feels wrong, nonetheless.

 "You’re going to have to keep an eye on that - even if the concussion should have mostly passed - write down anything out of the ordinary when it comes up,” the doctor replies, watching his face. “And even if you didn’t have any major injuries elsewhere - since your arms took the brunt of the damage from the fall - keep an eye on your back, knees, and hip, regardless - the bruising will take some time to heal.”

That uncomfortable _something_ is leaking into the back of his mind, and with it a wave of questions that the red-haired man is slowly beginning to become accustomed to ignoring. It’s similar to ignoring a bug bite - irritating and craving attention but mostly bearable.

Mostly.

“I’m aware bruising takes time to heal - what _do_ you and Regis think I do with my doctorate, Dr. Argentum? Fold it up and pick my teeth?” Ardyn sighs out dramatically, his mouth curving up at one side in a half-smile. “But yes, Camilla, I will keep you in my thoughts as I recover from this horribly minor tap from an old convertible driven by an, arguably, just as old bird.”

“Don’t be a smartass - I might accidentally poke something,” Camilla laughs softly, gently poking an unmarked patch of skin on the back of Ardyn’s hand.

Ardyn’s expression turns scandalized. “Oh my - a _threat_? Not very befitting of the family doctor. Is there something you’re not telling me - that I should know?”

The doctor is smiling as she pulls his sleeves back next, slowly unwrapping the bandages there as well. She gives a hum at the angry red marks, purple bruises, and half-healed cuts that litter Ardyn’s skin. “These seem to be healing up pretty well,” Camilla says, leaning to her left to pick up the first aid kit she brought in with her.

Ardyn merely looks towards the window as the young woman cleans the cuts with dabs of peroxide on a cotton ball. She puts gauze and bandage wrapping over the cuts just the slightest bit too large for a mere band-aid and lathers on some kind of paste to the marks on his hands. The man only pays her the barest of his attention as his eyes are trained on the sunlight filtering into the room through thin curtains.

Has the sunlight always been this bright? This inviting? Well of course it’s inviting  - it rises every day… so why does it feel like he’s seeing it for the first time in years?

Why does it make something in his chest tighten and that strange taste wash over his tongue?

Ardyn only realizes that Camilla has been speaking when she pauses, her expression twisting in concern. “...You’ll speak to Regis or Clarus if something is wrong, right?” she prompts, tone somewhere between worried and exasperated - as if she has repeated herself several times.

Eyes looking over his arms and hands for a moment, Ardyn lets out another sigh - he needs to stop… whatever it is he keeps doing. Daydreaming? Disassociating? “I doubt they won’t notice anything themselves and will call you before I even get a word in,” Ardyn is saying evenly. Something about the statement makes him give a crooked smile as his insides twist uncomfortably.

The gesture seems to make the doctor relax, and she’s soon smiling again. “They do it because they care,” Camilla reasons, closing the first aid kit. Her eyes glance towards the bedside table - eying the bowl that sits mostly full of some kind of soup. “And I’m sure your nephews would also appreciate you taking better care of yourself.”

Ardyn pauses at that. “Nephews…?” he repeats slowly, the word familiar and foreign once again as his headache decides it is a lovely time to return.

Camilla pauses herself, furrowing her brow. For a moment, she seems to be at a loss as well. “Yes - nephews. Noctis and Gladio?” she tries, hands resting on the first aid kit before she’s picking up her clipboard again and quickly scribbling something down. “You… have a niece as well - Iris?”

“Yes, yes - I know that.” Ardyn puts one of his hands to his temple, rubbing circles. He knows this - how can he not? Regis had remarried to Clarus nearly a year ago now - this is not something that should be this hard to grasp… yet here he is - trying to figure out why the idea of having more than one nephew is making him fight a headache. “I do believe I just… need more sleep - or perhaps an MRI.”

“When you were checked at the hospital, there wasn’t any damage to your brain or skull,” Camilla replies quietly, as if speaking to herself. “Perhaps mild amnesia?”

“I can assure you I don’t have amnesia.” The words don’t sound very convincing in Ardyn’s own ears.

Camilla hums. “How old are you?”

“Camilla, is this _really_ necessary-?”

“Answer the question, Ardyn.”

Ardyn sighs loudly, both hands now working circles into his temples. “Thirty-eight.”

“Birthday?”

“October thirteenth, year seven ‘O four, of the Modern Era,” Ardyn recites as his eyes fall closed. The conversation feels familiar, but he almost finds himself irritated by how easily the words flow out of his mouth. “Would you like to know my blood type, too? It’s O. Terribly average, I know, but there are just some things you simply cannot change.”

Camilla sends him a pointed look. “And the current year?”

“Seven forty-two,” Ardyn replies, voice becoming more cheerful as his headache increases. “Unless I slipped into a coma - as to which I must comment on how well everyone is taking my current state. Anything else?”

“Don’t be snippy with me - you’re the one who couldn’t remember your nephews,” Camilla points out, poking his shoulder with her pen before getting to her feet.

“I just woke up from a car accident from where I received a head wound - I don’t know what you were expecting,” Ardyn says with another twisting smile whilst leaning back against the headrest of the bed frame.

The doctor sighs loudly, her head tilting to the side to consider the other with a frown of her own. “...I’m going to expect you to get rest and call me tomorrow - or sooner if anything happens,” Camilla finally says after a long sigh, picking up the first aid kit. “Is there anything you want me to tell your brother or Clarus?”

“Of course.” Ardyn lets his eyes close again, and his smile becomes more lopsided. _Something_ about it doesn’t feel quite right - and he has to resist the urge to recoil at the words - but it also feels comforting, too. “And no - it’ll be nothing they won't interrogate me for themselves, I’m sure.”

Camilla makes her way towards the door and only turns back to him as her hand touches the doorknob. “I’ll ask Jared to get you some more water and some pain medication,” she says with a half smile. Ardyn can almost feel concern radiating off of her and attempts to make his smile more sincere. “Sleep well, Ardyn.”

"You as well, Camilla. You have my _most profound_ thanks."

Though she tells him to actually get some sleep with a laugh - as soon as the door closes behind her - Ardyn is dragging himself slowly from his bed.

His feet take him to the wall furthest away from the sunlight streaming in through the window, body protesting each and every step. Something about the light makes his stomach twist and it’s starting to get rather irritating - but even with that in mind, Ardyn finds himself pacing the wall instead of walking closer to the window. _Something_ about this is so startlingly familiar - like the answer is on the tip of his tongue.

Running his hand through his bangs, the red-haired man forces himself to take a step towards the sunlight - and has to stop himself from physically recoiling back towards the shadowed wall he had moved from. “This is ridiculous,” he whispers sharply to no one but the air. He takes another step... and another… and another - ignoring the sharp pain starting to form in his torso - until his feet are the only parts of him that are in the direct sunlight.

It’s warm - something he shouldn’t find surprising, yet still does.

His thoughts swirl and spiral - as if nothing about this is right but, logically and reasonably, it cannot be anything else. He feels ill and discontented... but also exhilarated and relieved.

And _something_ about it makes him take another step forward.

By the time Jared walks into the room a few moments later, carrying another glass of water and two small, red pills, and with Regis and Clarus in tow - they find Ardyn half slumped against the windowsill, in a chair he’s dragged over from the other side of the room, half bathed in sunlight.

And even while in what must be a very uncomfortable position given his injuries... the man looks as if he hasn’t slept more soundly in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mind may not always remember - but the body always does.


End file.
